


'tis the season

by dansunedisco



Series: 12 Days of Sanditon [1]
Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, One Shot Collection, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco
Summary: A collection of shorts for the 12 Days of Sanditon challenge.-Day 8: A mistletoe kiss.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood & Sidney Parker, Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Series: 12 Days of Sanditon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575874
Comments: 85
Kudos: 150





	1. Snow - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 Prompt: **Snow**.
> 
> Rating: G.
> 
> A modern era AU wherein a snowball fight for the ages leads to a kiss.

A flurry of snowballs shoots overhead as Charlotte makes her run for safety. She ducks behind the wall in time to hear a loud thump crash against the brick. She hunkers down and dumps an armful of snow she stole from the ‘good pile’. The boys hoarded it (against rules and regulations) during the fresh snowfall. She would not be disadvantaged.

“Grab a handful and start forming the snowballs like this!” She directs the order like a battle-hardened sergeant. "Stay strong and we won't lose!"

Her words bolster her troops. Alicia and Jenny get to work and soon, a tiny mountain of snowballs takes shape around them.

The object of the game is to capture-the-flag -- the stand-in is a washrag patterned with reindeer Mary let them use. The lines of the enemy run between the sexes. Sidney and Henry Parker stand on one side; Alicia, Jenny, and Charlotte on the other.

“They have three,” Henry complained at the time.

Sidney regarded Charlotte with his customary smirk. "And yet we're hardly disadvantaged."

Charlotte packs a snowball with extra force, thinking of Sidney, his stupid remark, and his equally stupid face. But the normal heat of her irritation isn't there; and, if she's being truthful, it hasn't been there for months. If she could drop a pin on the date and time, she suspects it would land where she befriended Georgiana-- but the whole fiasco that followed with Otis and London... It would stand to reason that Sidney should hate her. But she doesn't think he does.

Unbeknownst to her on how it came to be, something did change between them. Spitting arguments turned to friendly disagreements and thoughtful discourses. Time in proximity felt natural.  After the thaw, she realized she rather enjoyed his company, the banter, and maybe, also, his not-so-stupid face. It is a dilemma. One she doesn't know how to solve.

"D'you think they've given up, Henry?" Sidney calls out. "Should we make a run for victory?"

Jenny and Alicia -- who wear Elsa and Anna costumes over their puffy winter jackets,  respectively  \-- look at Charlotte despairingly.

"Have heart, my loves! We beat the boys on the river," she says, "and we will beat the boys here!  We must launch an all-out offensive if we're to win-- put as many snowballs as you can in your skirts and make a run for their stronghold. Don't start throwing until you see the whites of their eyes!"

"What will you do, Charlotte?" Jenny asks.

She makes a show of cracking her knuckles. "Hit them where it hurts."

The troops advance, screaming and yelling. While Sidney and Henry retaliate valiantly, Charlotte escapes the onslaught. She keeps low and jogs around the perimeter.  Her boots _crunch-crunch-crunch_ in the hardpacked snow, but the fury of war disguises the noise.

Sneaking and stealing behind enemy lines might not've been fair, but she wants to win.

Sidney and Henry sit crouched behind their wall of snow. An arsenal of snowballs lay at their feet, which they throw at odd intervals. They are too busy defending the keep from Jenny and Alicia to notice Charlotte's advance. She creeps forward.

Sidney sees her feint too late.

"On Heywood!" She leaps forward and shoves a fistful of snow behind the neck of his jumper. "Girls! Get the flag!"

Sidney yelps and twists, shoulders up about his ears, and they both crash, legs tangled, into the heap of snow.

"You crushed our castle!" Henry says, eyes wide and horrified.

"We'll fix it! Go for the flag, Henry!" Sidney says, but it's too late.

Charlotte tips her head back to see the girls waving the washrag overhead in victory.  She cheers and comes right-side-up-- only to discover that she is still very much under one Sidney Parker.

He hovers above her like some cheesy Christmas movie love-interest. His nose is red-chapped from the cold, and a delicate dusting of snowflakes lay on the tips of his eyelashes.  They're close enough for the steam of their breaths to mingle -- close enough to kiss if they wanted to -- and he's looking down at her in a way he's never done before. Butterflies take flight in her stomach.

The moment breaks.

Sidney scrambles up and away, and offers his hand as truce once he's on his feet. She takes it, and he pulls her up.

"Well done, Admiral Heywood," he says, "I didn't think you had it in you."

"We were hardly the underdogs." She dusts the snow off her pants. "But thank you, I suppose."

"You're quite the sore winner, aren't you?"

"Only because you're a sore loser."

He crosses his eyes at her. "You're the loser."

She presses her lips together to fight the smile threatening to peek its way through. She sniffs. "That's no way to talk to the reigning champion of Parker versus Heywood."

"Indeed.  Terribly  rude of me."

"Terribly. But I should say... in the spirit of goodwill... you and Henry both fought admirably," she concedes. "The snow wall was a brilliant addition."

He smiles and ducks his head, and her heart twists with the mounting horror that she is horribly,  irrevocably, head over heels for the man.

The Parker children come around then, complaining loudly  of fatigue and cold. Sidney and Charlotte  quickly  shuttle them inside and out of their wet garments. Without even a whisper of thanks, the children thunder away.

Charlotte toes out of her boots while Sidney lifts his wet jumper up, though he  quickly  becomes tangled: body free, head and arms trapped within.

She watches him struggle until he ceases with a put-upon sigh and mumbles through the fabric, "Anytime now, Charlotte."

"Sir, yes, sir."

She makes quick work of it and he pops free, hair ruffled.

"Thank you," he says,

Again, she finds they've come to stand rather close-- and again, she finds she doesn't want to step back.  There is a softness in the way he looks at her now; the polar opposite from the barely-concealed contempt in the first weeks of their acquaintance. She follows the line of his gaze, the eye it flickers between her eyes and... somewhere lower.

Her breath stutters in her chest as his hand comes up.

_This is happening_ , she thinks. _Either he's going to finally strangle me, or--_

He brushes her cheekbone with his thumb; drags it down to cradle her jaw. His hands are freezing cold, having forgone mittens earlier, and she shivers at his touch. Still, leaning into him is as innate as breathing.  While their normal interactions often consist of conflict, between them now she finds only harmony. It's even easier to press up when he leans down, catching one another in a soft kiss. She drops his jumper to the floor.

Charlotte melts against him, hands against his sides. She feels hot and cold, the shivery delirium of adrenaline and desire whisking up and down her spine.

The front door creaks open and they jump apart just as Tom's boisterous voice booms out, "Hullo, hullo! Daddy has returned with news from the North Pole!"

A chorus of children's voices reaches a fever pitch upstairs.

Sidney and Charlotte share a look of horror before breaking into peals of laughter.

"So, Mr. Parker,  shall  we go and discover what Santa Claus brings us this year?" Charlotte asks after a moment, game to completely blast past the incident of the kiss if that is what he wants.

"I think  I've already received my present," he says, reaching down to interlace their fingers. "I would feel very naughty asking for anything else."

Despite the forwardness of his words, Charlotte senses his underlying nerves. She squeezes her hands around his, nervous, too. If they embark on whatever it is between them, there would be no going back. She is as ingrained in the Parker family as he is.

But if he's willing to take the leap, so is she. "A little birdie told me you've been really very good this year," she says. She smiles. "Let's go."


	2. Night Divine - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: **Night Divine** aka fall to your knees
> 
> Rating: Explicit
> 
> A Modern era post-holiday party short wherein 'fall to your knees' is a literal thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to [bisexualclarke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilexualclarke/pseuds/bilexualclarke) and [watermelon sugar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758041/chapters/51911308) for inspiring this short <3

Charlotte flops back onto the bed, exhausted. Her legs dangle off the edge. With what feels like the rest of her energy, she kicks her feet to dislodge the heels that have had her toes pinching for the better part of the night. They launch across the room and land with two solid thumps against the far wall. Her hair is still up in a torturous _coiffure,_ and she can feel the telltale sign that the inner corner of her eyelash strips have flipped up, but she is ultimately too tired to take care of it.

“I’ve decided I hate holiday parties,” she says.

Sidney, who’s being much more graceful with the removal of his black-tie ensemble, huffs a laugh. “You _love_ holiday parties,” he counters. “In fact, a vivid memory of you and Arthur karaoke'ing Mariah Carey into the wee hours of the morning comes to mind—“

“I amend: I hate holiday parties that require _schmoozing_ and elbow-rubbing,” she says, heaving the rest of her body onto the mattress. “All these 'how d'you dos' and 'you look lovelys' when in reality no one likes anyone at all. And is it really too much to ask for regular-sized hors d'oeuvres?”

“I can't do much about the backstabbing villains, but I will tell the caterers to hold the tiny crackers and beluga caviar from here on out,” he vows solemnly. He bends over to drop a kiss to Charlotte’s forehead and proceeds to undo his complicated bow tie.

She sits back and admires his figure. Not for the first time she imagines how fine he would look dressed up in some Regency-era frippery like a proper dandy.

“You're so considerate,” she says, and scoots her feet over to his side of the bed. “Always so generous and loving.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Begging for foot rubs now, are we?”

“Please.” She doesn’t pout, exactly, but she’s close to it. “I should’ve borrowed those heels Gigi offered me, but she’s about half a size too-- ah!”

“Ticklish?”

She settles. “No, it feels wonderful; just a bit sore.”

Sidney continues his gentle kneading, pressing his thumbs into the tender arches of Charlotte’s poor, abused feet. “You could’ve worn your sneakers,” he says.

“Converse and a cocktail dress? They wouldn’t’ve let me in.”

“Then we wouldn’t’ve gone.”

She flushes. It’s not the first time Sidney has said something to the effect of ‘ _he doesn’t care what anyone thinks’_ , but it never fails to remind Charlotte of their vast and varied differences: he’s older, wealthier, friends with actual _lords_ and _ladies,_ and if anything Crowe says is to be believed, attended the most recent royal wedding. In comparison, she’s finishing up her last year at uni and, at any given moment, has just enough in her bank account to either pay for lunch or pay for transportation.

The meaner end of Sidney's social circle knows this all too well, and her pride is still smarting from a comment or two made the previous year when it was heavily implied she was his ‘ _paid escort’._ Someone came away with a black eye that night, and she rang in the New Year at the A&E worried Sidney broke his hand.

“I love you, you know,” he says, softer this time.

She fights the urge to say something silly to break the tension; flutter her eyelashes or make a self-deprecating remark. She swallows around the lump in her throat. “I love you, too.”

He stops his massage and sits her up like she weighs nothing, and makes quick work of the pins in her hair. Enough hairspray keeps it from tumbling freely down her shoulders, but the sudden lack of pressure against her scalp feels glorious. A small moan of relief escapes her. Sidney's hold on her tightens then, his breath coming a little heavier than before. She leans back against his chest, wondering if there would ever be a time when she didn't immediately _want him_ the moment he touched her. If that time came-- well, she doesn't want it to.

He drops a kiss against her bare neck when he’s finished unzipping her dress, and she twists around to capture his mouth with hers.

It doesn’t take long before her dress goes flying in the direction of her shoes, and she’s tugged back to the edge of the bed, legs thrown over Sidney’s shoulders as he settles on his knees.

“Don’t--”

He yanks her panties to the side. The delicate lace tears under pressure. He glances up at her, ripped fabric dangling in his grip. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not-- ah!”

He lays his cheek against her open thigh. “Ticklish?”

Any coherent reply is lost in her moan as he licks a bold stripe between her folds.

It doesn't take long before she is panting, hips bucking up under his ministrations; his tongue circles the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her, alternating between short and long strokes, and all it takes for her to see stars is his finger dipping into her once, twice. He gentles for a moment, but doesn't stop. She comes up on her elbows, heartbeat thundering in her chest; it's almost too intimate watching him, but he quickly brings her to a second, quieter orgasm.

The path of their relationship never did run smooth, but if there is one thing they excelled at from the get, it is this.

They cuddle afterwards; Charlotte naked, Sidney still fully clothed and insisting his satisfaction. She nudges her hips back into the cradle of his, relishing in the hiss he lets out and hoping to draw him into more vigorous activities.

"To bed with you, vile temptress."

"Oh don't start. I'm not tired," she says around a jaw-cracking yawn. "I'm really not."

He kisses the back of her head and holds her firmly against his front. "Whatever you say, dove."

She falls asleep a blink later.

She wakes the next morning to her falsies laid out on the side table alongside a tall glass of water. Sidney's breath tickles the back of her neck, his knees tucked up behind hers. It isn’t the first time he’s taken care of her -- in more ways than one -- and it’s hard to imagine herself being anywhere else but here. She nuzzles further into the comfort and warmth of his arms, content and happy.


	3. Where the Love-light Gleams - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: **where the love-light gleams**
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> With all the trains to Sanditon canceled due to inclement weather, Sidney and Charlotte make the best of their situation. Or: the bed-sharing trope fic.

“We have the one room with the double bed.”

Charlotte blinks. “And--?”

The hotel clerk’s smile falters for a moment before it is plastered back on. “That’s it, miss. We’re fully booked due to the storm. The only lodging we have available now is the one room, with the one bed.” Her eyebrows furrow and she leans in with a whisper, “Are you and the mister going through a rough one?”

She flushes, gaze snapping sideways to her reluctant companion -- who’s been spitting into his cellphone since it rang in the lobby -- and back to… _Clara,_ the clerk’s name tag states. She decides it would take altogether too long to explain the entire situation: there is no mister, and if there _was_ a mister, he would absolutely not, in no certain terms, be _Sidney Parker;_ and the sole reason for their simultaneous arrival is because the snow canceled all trains, not a single Uber, Lyft or taxi is in service, and the Brereton Rose is the only hotel within walking distance of the station. It just so happens that she and Sidney were standing on the platform near one another when the cancellation announcement was made, and she couldn’t tell the man to _not_ walk in the same direction as her.

Charlotte glances at Sidney once more. He’s now angrily tapping away at his phone, no doubt trying to call the Queen Herself to lodge a complaint against this terrible inconvenience called _weather._

She could take the room, she thinks. She could take the room and walk away.

But she knows she won’t do that.

“Something like that,” she tells Clara. “We’ll take it.”

Clara beams. “Wonderful!”

She signs the required paperwork and pays, and she’s handed a heavy key with the number _12_ on its dangling placard.

“You booked _us_ a room?” Sidney says -- rather, _sneers_ \-- when Charlotte tells him their circumstances.

“You’re amazing, Charlotte,” she lowers her voice in what she hopes is a fair mockery of his own. “Thank you _so much_ , Charlotte, for not letting me sleep in a snowdrift tonight.”

That one muscle in his left jaw jumps.

She’s surprised he hasn’t worn down all his teeth with all the grinding he must do in her presence.

“You’re more than welcome to not take me up on my most generous offer,” she says. She hoists her travel bag up and over her shoulder, and proceeds down the hallway to find her room.

Sidney catches up with her on swift legs. He’s rolling a fancy carry-on behind him, and an even fancier leather satchel she knows carries his expensive laptop is slung across his chest. “I’ll split the cost with you,” he says, which is as much of a ' _thank you'_ she thinks she will receive from him tonight.

The room is tiny, but tidy. Charlotte parks her bag at the furthest side of the room, and then proceeds to test the bed. The springs give a shrieking wail, but it feels comfortable enough.

She looks up to see Sidney, who seems to be frozen in terror. "You alright?"

"There's one bed."

"Like I said."

"I thought you were pulling my leg. I'm going back--"

"Sidney. Don't be so old-fashioned. They're booked up and what's more, we're both adults. We can share a bed for one night." She bounces on the bed; _creak-creak-creak_. She can't deny she's having a riotous time seeing him sweat. "And if you really don't want to share... well, I suppose you can always sleep in the shower. Or on the floor."

Her needling spurs him into action. He wheels his luggage all the way in, and locks the door with a click. "If anyone should sleep on the floor, it's you."

"Why?" she snaps, mind whirling on all the horrid possibilities he may come up with: she's poor, eleven brothers and sisters, used to sleeping anywhere there was space.

"You're the young one. You should take pity on your elders." He makes a show of rubbing his lower back. "How we suffer in our old age."

"My elder? Hardly! You have, what, seven years on me?"

He regards her for a moment. "Keeping tabs on me, Heywood?"

She rolls her eyes. "You wish, old man."

She won't admit that she's Googled him and does indeed know his true age, thanks to a _Times_ article that also lavished praise on all his pro bono work and volunteerism. Not for anything.

Settling down for the night is a simple affair. Charlotte takes the bathroom first, and Sidney swaps when she comes out. It feels entirely too domestic listening to him hum in the shower and brush his teeth, so she pops her earbuds in and toggles to her holiday playlist.

She jerks awake to the bed dipping beside her.

"It's just me," Sidney says. He's placed a hand on her shoulder and quickly draws it back. "Didn't mean to wake you."

She sets her earbuds aside. "No harm done. I'm just not used to..." She motions vaguely between them.

"A man coming into your bed?" He pauses, and she sees the gentle flush taking shape on his well-defined cheekbones. "Er-- that came out very rudely."

"A little bit," she agrees. "But no real offense taken."

He clicks the light off and climbs in bed without preamble, shifting this way and that under the covers until he stills; it doesn't take long before his body heat radiates to her side. She clutches at her pillow, slightly panicked.

"Having second thoughts, Heywood?" He makes a show of flopping in the bed; _creaaaak-creak._

She grits her teeth. "None whatsoever."

True enough, she's exhausted, and the comfort of another human being lying next to her soon lulls her into a dreamlike haze. The only thing keeping her from full sleepfulness is the incessant _tap-tap-tap_ of Sidney's phone.

She rolls over to face his side, squinting against the harsh blue light illuminating his face. "You really must be ancient. Not even my father has his keyboard sounds turned on," she mumbles sleepily. "Who're you writing?"

His phone goes dark, and he's silent for so long she thinks he means to ignore her. Then, he shifts sideways, and he says, "Georgiana."

Her stomach swoops. "Oh. Girlfriend?"

He huffs. "No. Georgiana is my ward."

Charlotte's world tilts on its axis.

"I know what you're thinking: how very Dickensian of me."

"Or very noble." She bites her lip. "How old is she?"

"Seventeen," he says. "She's in a boarding school the majority of the year. Her late father insisted on the _best education._ She hates being so far away from London, but..."

"A teenaged girl living with an older man of no relation would raise eyebrows."

"Very much so." He sighs. "I promised her I would be in Sanditon tonight. And yet here I am."

"Here you are indeed. Still, she can't hold the bad weather against you."

"You haven't been around teenaged girls lately, have you?"

"No, but I have personal experience."

"Right. Well-- G's 'home' with Mary and Tom for the winter holidays," he says, "because she can't rightly stay with me. I should've been there when she arrived. I had _intended_ on being there when she arrived, but... work called."

"Mm. You fucked up."

"I fucked up."

"You can make it up to her," she says gently. "You clearly care, braving the snowstorm as you did."

"Why, Heywood, is that a compliment?"

"I'm not incapable of overlooking my previous biases."

"You're a better person than me in that regard. I have to admit I was shocked you offered for me to stay with you tonight. I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you. I don't think I can _hate_ anyone. You just-- bring out the worst in me, sometimes."

"I've been told I have that effect on women."

" _Ugh."_

"And we do argue quite a bit more than is considered normal."

"Well, we aren't arguing now."

"Not yet."

"Again: _ugh._ "

"Ha. Well. Goodnight, Heywood. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow and we ought to get some rest."

She can just barely make out the outline of his features in the darkness; and she decides his smile is altogether not entirely horrible to look at.

"Goodnight," she says, and turns over, feeling weirdly disappointed to end their conversation.

The sudden thaw between them feels as tentative as thin ice, but she has to admit: she hopes it lasts.


	4. Caroling - Canon Compliant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon-era fic wherein Sidney doesn't want to go caroling.
> 
> Day 4 prompt: **Caroling**
> 
> Rating: PG

Every single day since they’d been wed, Charlotte Parker had done her best to absolutely shock and torture her poor husband.

“I do no such thing, Mr. Parker, and I beg you to retract such dishonest allegations.”

“I will not, _Mrs. Parker_ , as there is no other explanation for your goings along with my brother’s latest scheme.”

"It is not a scheme. It is a wonderful idea." Charlotte fluttered the crisp pamphlets Tom had passed around to all the denizens of Sanditon. They each contained therein a Christmas carol. The idea was to gather as a group and parade about singing to one another about _love_ and _family_ during the holidays. It sounded grotesque. Still, his beloved and good-natured wife had taken to the idea like a fish to water... and then had insisted Sidney create a Parker family band.

Tom, in turn, had seized upon the idea like a determined dog on a bone, and then both Arthur and Diana insisted they would brave the harsh cold and blistering winds if everyone else agreed. Even _Georgiana_ had offered to lend her voice, though he suspected she had only done so because she knew what little inclination Sidney had for such silly antics.

But as he'd had very little success of altering her opinion with brute force and vigorous declinations, he instead moved to persuade his wife by other means. "Charlotte," he said, softer now. He gathered her into his arms. "Would you not rather pass this winter's night with me -- only me?"

Her eyes shone with amusement as she looked up at him, but he was pleased to see she wasn't nearly so unaffected as she pretended to be: a light flush graced her cheeks and her eyes had darkened. Nevertheless, she gracefully extracted herself from his hold. "I've already promised the children I would go, and it will hardly take us all night to accomplish our goal of spreading good cheer -- unless you believe a little walking and singing will dampen your vigor later on?"

His pride wouldn't allow him to remain silent on the matter. "It would take much more than a turn about town to tire me so."

She took a slow step towards him and placed her hand above his beating heart. "Then prove it to me, Sidney."

In the end, he did go a-caroling about Sanditon. The true nature of _why_ he'd fought so hard to not go became quickly apparent: he couldn't hold a single tune to save his life and spent the majority of the evening either too sharp or flat. Still, he made it home with a happier wife in hand and proved himself quite well afterwards indeed.


	5. Roaring Fire - Canon Compliant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: **Roaring fire**
> 
> Rating: Explicit
> 
> The fireplace goes out in the middle of the night and The Sidney Parkers find another way to keep warm.

Sidney woke with the tip of his nose as cold as ice. The roaring fire that he’d left in the hearth had burned down to smoldering embers, and the warming bricks he’d tucked under the mattress had long lost their purpose. He knew he needed to attend the fire before it completely burnt out, but he decided to bask in his present situation just a moment longer.

Charlotte’s head lay on his chest, her hand curled around his side. She was a vision he could stand to see for the rest of his life. And he was glad of the thought, for she was now his wife.

He ran his fingers through her loose hair, marveling at how soft it was. She was so very beautiful in her own unconventional way. The freckles along the bridge of her nose; the sun-kissed glow she earned after a day in the sun. How lucky he was; yet how easily his life could have gone in a different direction. How easily it could have been a different woman in his arms this night.

His heart squeezed at the memory -- how close he’d come to marrying someone else. If he hadn’t found Sanditon’s last-minute investor...

“Sidney,” Charlotte mumbled, wriggling in his embrace.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m  _ freezing _ …”

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “The fire needs tending.”

She did not let him escape from under her and he allowed the pretense that her strength held him down.

“It does... but I’m really  _ very  _ cold,” she said. There was light enough from the moon outside to see the blush take shape on her cheeks. “Perhaps Mr. Parker would like to warm me up in a more unconventional way?”

Another kind of heat flashed through him. Sidney was no stranger to his carnal appetite, but the way she affected him bordered on ridiculous. "I could be obliged," he said, and wasted no time in turning the tables.

She landed beneath him with a soft  _ oof _ , her hands coming up to flutter around his shoulders as he languished kisses on her arched neck. He gathered her nightclothes above her hips; he dragged his knuckle between the delicate folds of her, finding her achingly warm and wet already.

She squirmed in his grasp. "Oh! Your hand is an  _ icicle. _ "

He attended her sensitive bud with his thumb in slow, clockwise circles. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her breath quickly grew shallow. He drew back then, and asked with the air of absolute innocence, "Would you like me to stop?"

Her eyes snapped open. "If you mean to tease me--"

"Of course I do." He kissed her. "That's half the fun."

He did not torture her long, for he found he never could quite help himself when she gasped and moaned and reached for him like she did; he entered her only after she'd spent to satisfaction twice, and he quickly found his release within her warm embrace.

He withdrew slowly and rolled to his side, hissing angrily as he found that side of the bed quite a lot colder than he'd left it. And the fire, he noted with great displeasure, was now completely out. He cursed.

"Leave it," Charlotte said. She curled up against his side. She was so warm he loathed the idea of leaving indeed. "It's not so cold we will freeze solid by tomorrow. And besides... we have other means of keeping warm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer re: the ~unconventional~ beauty remark: i'm not saying rose williams isn't absolutely gorgeous at all, just alluding to the regency-era standards of beauty! :)


	6. Gingerbread - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: **Gingerbread**
> 
> Rating: PG
> 
> A week after their first kiss, Charlotte and Sidney discuss the way ahead. Part two of [this chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808996/chapters/52042648).

“Aunt, where are your mittens?”

“Stop your pestering, Esther. It was tedious before and now it is outright obnoxious,” Lady Denham groused. “I’ve made it all these long years without! I don’t understand why you insist I begin wearing them now--” 

Charlotte hurried past Lady D and her niece, lest she become wrapped up in the argument. ‘Twas the season to be jolly, after all, and she had to make it back to Trafalgar House in time for the  _ Annual Parker Family Gingerbread House Construction Contest Extravaganza.  _ She would not be waylaid. Not for anything in the world.

Despite the frosty weather and a forecast that promised a  _ very  _ white Christmas, the streets of Sanditon were packed.

Just as easily as he’d promoted the town as a summer getaway to rival Brighton, Tom Parker had refashioned Sanditon into a perfect, picturesque model of nineteenth century winter holidays. White lights twinkled overhead. Storefronts were packed with fake snow, holly and cheer. The smell of apple cider and a roaring fire permeated the air. “And it’s all real, you see,” Tom had explained. “None of that fake pumped-in perfume for Sanditon! We aren’t Disneyland! No, my dear Charlotte, we’re  _ better  _ than that. Ah! Isn’t it absolutely bracing!”

For once, Tom had it right. What could have been a lame gimmick instead felt earnest and  _ real _ , as if the spirit of Christmas lived and breathed within Sanditon proper. A local news station aired a spot on them, and BBC picked it up shortly after. People came to visit from all over the world. Every hotel and motel was let, and Charlotte had had to work overtime at the coffee shop most days to keep up with the demand for eggnog, hot chocolate and hot cider.

The influx, of course, was a true surprise to everyone but Tom.

“Hello!” Charlotte opened the door. She stomped her feet against the welcome mat, simultaneously getting circulation back in her frozen toes and knocking the worst of the muck off her boots. “I bring tidings of joy! But, more importantly, hot chocolate!”

“ _ Charlotte _ !” Three pairs of tiny feet thundered down the stairs. “She’s here!”

“Hello, my loves,” she said. “Where’s your mum?”

“In the kitchen!” they chorused.

“Let’s go help her, hm?” Charlotte said. The sugary-scented blast of gingerbread and frosting filled her nose as she turned down the hall and, despite what felt like weeks of sampling all the cookies Sanditon had to offer, her mouth watered.

Instead of Mary, however, she entered the kitchen to find Sidney Parker balancing two trays of freshly-made gingerbread. He wore overlarge mittens, a smudge of flour ran along his cheek, and his undoubtedly expensive jumper was protected by a beige apron emblazoned  _ ‘Sanditon 2019 Summer Regatta’.  _

“Sidney, hi,” she said. Her stomach twisted. A week ago they’d shared their first kiss after a very intense snowball battle, but their relationship was still as of yet undefined. “Can I help with anything?”

“No need, I’m just finishing up,” he said. He settled the trays on the countertop and quickly shuffled another set into the oven. “Mary said you were coming. She’s out back with baby James if you’re looking for her.”

“Not in particular.” She set the precariously loaded bags atop the island. “Just dropping off the hot chocolate.” 

“Can we have some, Charlotte?” Alicia asked.

“We won’t spill anything,” Jenny said.

Henry nodded. “We won’t.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh at the three of them. They looked so innocent. “If Uncle Sidney agrees, I don’t see why not.”

“Uncle Sidney is worried about the brand new flooring and will not be held responsible, so go ask your mum.”

Even before the sentence was finished, the Parker children stampeded away in search of a yes-man.

Alone together for the first time in days, Charlotte and Sidney busied themselves in the kitchen. A fair mess had been made during the making of the gingerbread, and the pair of them wordlessly began cleaning. It was easier than talking, and putting into words that they really did like one another terribly; and that their one kiss and a day of handholding wasn’t a complete and utter fluke. Still, it was apparent how well they worked with one another: Sidney cleared the island, and Charlotte darted around him as he did, depositing clean utensils and kitchenware into their respective drawers. Inch by inch, the space between them disappeared, until they finally faced one another.

She reached up to wipe away the flour at his cheek, biting her lip at the feel of his stubble against her fingers. “You had a bit of--”

“Are you joining--”

The tension broke in the overlapping start of conversation, and they shared a laugh; the both of them perhaps wondering why they chose to indulge in awkwardness when it was so much easier to come together. 

Sidney wordlessly gathered her into his arms, his lips brushing against her temple, and Charlotte’s arms came around him with a contented sigh. They held one another for a moment, basking in the warmth of one another’s embrace (and the oven nearby).

“I missed you,” he said, after a moment. He laid his cheek atop her head. “I didn’t think I would, but when I saw you standing in the kitchen…”

“Me too,” she agreed. It was much easier to admit such things against the firm wall of his chest. “Is it weird?”

“That we missed one another’s company after a few days apart?”

“Yeah, that.”

He stayed quiet for a moment. “Well, there is a saying for such things. The heart growing fonder and all that.”

Her heartbeat quickened.

He pulled away from her. “Charlotte, we didn’t talk or explain ourselves after-- last week. But I don’t want you to think it’s because of a lack of feeling on my part.” He searched her eyes. “I’m man enough to admit I have them, and that they scare me. I have a track record of mucking things up royally, you see.”

Charlotte knew, very briefly, of the spiral Sidney had fallen down after a particularly nasty break-up almost ten years ago.

“You’re an Honorary Parker,” he continued. “If we go on as I want to…”

The unknown yawned before them; whereas Sidney clearly saw darkness, Charlotte saw only hope, and light.

“Don’t make the choice for me,” she said. “If you want to ‘go on’, then it’s my decision to go along that road, too. And I do, Sidney. You infuriate me most of the time, but you make me laugh harder than anyone, and  _ think  _ about everything, and…” She took a breath. “Nothing is ever certain, but we can’t live our lives wondering what horrible, hurtful thing waits us around the next corner. Not at the expense of the beautiful now.”

Sidney looked down at her with what she would many years later come to understand was pure, shining love.

“You’re quite the philosopher, Miss Heywood,” he said softly.

  
  


They kissed under the fluorescent light of the recently remodeled Parker kitchen -- unknowingly in direct view of Mary and the Parker children outside. Mary gave a very unsubtle fist-pump to the air. 

_ Finally!  _ She could scream. Weeks and weeks of gentle nudging finally came to fruition!

“Come now, my loves,” she said, shooing her children away from the window lest the kissing turn a bit more French. “Let’s give Uncle Sidney and Charlotte a few minutes of privacy."

“Is  _ that  _ why you said we have to wait for the hot chocolate?” Jenny asked.

Alicia stuck her tongue out. “Ew.”

“I can’t see,” Henry crowed, hopping up on little legs.


	7. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: **Mistletoe**
> 
> Rating: PG

“You can’t be serious,” said Sidney.

“It’s _tradition_ , Sidney,” Tom insisted.

Arthur raised his glass of mulled wine aloft. “To tradition!”

The Parkers and all gave a hearty cheer. Even Mary, who normally dissuaded the family from such fanciful notions, joined in, and so Sidney had no choice but to turn to Charlotte.

A sprig of mistletoe hung above the doorway. It just so happened that both Charlotte and he had walked through the double-doors of Trafalgar House at the same time, and lingered a moment too long to remove their winter garments. Tom had come upon them as they stood back-to-back under the aforementioned sprig and, ever the showman, he’d rallied the rest of the family from the adjacent room to cast peer pressure upon the newly arrived victims. Despite their valiant protests, it seemed they would be held accountable.

“You can say no,” Sidney told her quietly.

“It _is_ tradition,” she replied. “So maybe we should.”

Her answer shocked him. If Sidney were being honest -- and he was, normally, to a fault -- he’d wanted to kiss Charlotte for ages now. It had been a slow, creeping realisation on his part; a feeling that, when discovered, he’d wrapped it up and shoved it into a proverbial box which he’d then trundled off into a deep, recessed corner of his heart. As such, the matter of returned feelings never crossed his mind. Maybe, he thought, looking into Charlotte’s soft eyes, it should have.

Her face was upturned, her expression unreadable. He couldn’t tell if the flush along her cheeks was from the outside cold or embarrassment. What he could acknowledge, however, was how absolutely, stunningly beautiful she was.

Coming to the kiss was easy. Stubborn as he was, he was determined not to read into a single thing as she pressed up to him; how her eyes fluttered closed, how well they fit together, or that her soft lips parted into a breathless gasp against his. His world spun as much as it fell away, and it took a moment to register their audience’s delight as they drifted slowly apart.

“That’s how it’s done!” Tom declared.

“Hear, hear!” crowed Arthur.

“I _told_ you he liked her--” came Georgiana’s recount.

He was sure he looked as stunned as Charlotte did, but there was no time to consider the monumental change that had occurred: the whirlwind that was Tom Park descended upon them a moment later, and they were brought into the fold of another Sanditon holiday party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you want to see where this goes? go read [The Mistletoe Bluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940465/chapters/52363621) :)

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas ya filthy animal <3


End file.
